


we both know what the scores don't show

by puchuupoet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-08
Updated: 2010-09-08
Packaged: 2017-10-11 17:43:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/114973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puchuupoet/pseuds/puchuupoet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Dared by <a href="http://cecilylee.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://cecilylee.livejournal.com/"><strong>cecilylee</strong></a> and beta'd by <a href="http://playthefool.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://playthefool.livejournal.com/"><strong>playthefool</strong></a> ♥♥ All mistakes are of my own exhaustion/choosing. Inspired by A.C. Newman's songs ♥</p><p>Spoilers up to the end of Season 5</p>
    </blockquote>





	we both know what the scores don't show

**Author's Note:**

> Dared by [](http://cecilylee.livejournal.com/profile)[**cecilylee**](http://cecilylee.livejournal.com/) and beta'd by [](http://playthefool.livejournal.com/profile)[**playthefool**](http://playthefool.livejournal.com/) ♥♥ All mistakes are of my own exhaustion/choosing. Inspired by A.C. Newman's songs ♥
> 
> Spoilers up to the end of Season 5

  
Zachariah opens his eyes slowly, groaning at the burning pain that suddenly shoots through his head. He's dead, or at least he thought he was. But as the pain becomes tolerable and the room starts to blur into focus, he's not quite sure.

He's slumped against a cream love seat, and once his vision clears he realizes he's back in the Green Room. It's not til he pulls himself up, doing his best to keep his head still, that he becomes aware of the figure sitting at the table.

"You... What happened?"

Chuck just smiles at Zachariah before reaching towards the glass sitting before him. He takes a slow sip; a complete change from the last time Zachariah saw him, clutching at his bottles and draining them in a few burning swallows.

"You were outsmarted, Zachariah." Chuck's eyes flicker away to focus on one of the walls. "One last time."

Zachariah doesn't answer, just keeps staring at Chuck's face til he finally follows Chuck's gaze, to where the smoky imprint of his wings is still seared into the walls and floor. Zach blinks and suddenly he can smell it, charred flesh and bone and something earthier, something more acrid that's tickling in the back of his throat.

"You remember that smell..." Chuck's voice is soft in the background, but Zachariah can't bother to look at him, instead focusing in on the flare of white scarring the floor between the spread of shadows.

It's the remaining smear of his Grace, fragments of it pressed deep in the wood. He knows the scent well, from battles and wars past, when he would wield a sword and fangs and tear at the throats of opposing forces. The air would hang heavy with that smell, rancid earth after a thunderstorm, and there once was a time when he reveled in it.

"Did you think it would happen any other way?" And this time Zachariah meets Chuck's eyes.

"Never," he finally answers. "Just, you know. Not now, by him. Not _here_ ," and he emphasizes the word with a glare at their surroundings.

"Would you have preferred a park bench?" Chuck takes another sip before setting his glass down and standing up. He moves towards Zachariah, slow steps that have Zachariah realizing he can still hear his heart pounding in his head.

Zachariah shrugs. "It's a little clichéd, if you ask me." Chuck is close enough now that when he huffs out a laugh, Zachariah feels it brush across his neck.

"You just told me to keep writing. You didn't say anything about it being good," Chuck murmurs, reaching up to grasp at the back of Zachariah's neck. Chuck's fingertips are light on his skin and Zachariah can feel himself start to crumble, black ash drifting to the floor with every brush of Chuck's fingers.

Zachariah reaches for him when Chuck presses his mouth to his, his hands leaving charcoal smears on crisp white sleeves. His eyes close when he realizes he's whimpering, and can only manage a broken " _please_ " when Chuck's lips part.

"I loved you, once," Zachariah whispers as Chuck pulls back and he keeps his eyes closed as his shoulders slump.

"I know."

There's a light pressure on his collarbone and Zachariah counts the lines of Chuck's fingerprints until his toes start tickling. Zach can feel when Chuck finally lets go, letting loose the power he had been holding back, his hand reluctantly dropping from Zachariah's chest. It flares through Zachariah's body, crisping his skin and melting his innards, a bubbling mess that finally takes over all his senses.


End file.
